


4 Times an Avenger Wouldn't Kill Loki

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Black Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sherlock (TV) References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ....and 1 time one of them did.A/N - So it's a 5+1 thingy, except it's a 4+1. Ha. Whatever. Updated once a week. I'll update the tags, character list and relationships too as the story progresses.





	1. Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved reading 5+1 fics, and I decided to try my hand at one. This story's going to have some kind of twisted, black humor to it, and please bear with me. 
> 
> I'm not the best at tags, so if anyone has any suggestions, don't hesitate to tell me. 
> 
> Warnings: Brief mentions of suicide

 

Natasha felt the gentle pull of teleportation while she was dancing.

 

It was a rare, unusual sight, seeing the infamous Black Widow dancing, and there was much that many would’ve given to see it.

 

And who wouldn’t want to? The beautiful, redheaded woman was scantily clothed in a pair of small, tight shorts that failed to hide her long, supple legs and tight buttocks, and the sports bra she was wearing would have most men drooling. The movements of her curvaceous, lithe body were graceful and precise.

 

But Natasha didn’t _want_ anyone seeing. To her, it was a moment of weakness, an uncharacteristically feminine thing that didn’t suit the remorseless assassin at all. Yet in the Red Room, she’d been taught ballet, and there were moments when only dancing eased the stress out of her tensed muscles.

 

So she danced in the dark, curtains drawn with lights turned off. The music was set as low as possible, and all that could be heard from it was a low, pleasing, melodic murmur.

 

The Black Widow closed her eyes, letting memory and instinct take over her muscles as she swayed and glided across the floor, losing herself in the serenity of the moment.

 

Of course, it was serene until Natasha felt the tug of teleportation.

 

Grumbling to herself, Natasha felt for the switch and snapped on the light, guessing she had about thirty seconds before she was whisked away to wherever Loki was bringing her.

 

The first visit had been alarming. Loki had visited _her,_ then, in a projection of himself. SHIELD had been immediately notified, all the top gunmen surrounded the two of them, and a helicopter hovered above Loki’s projection.

 

Loki had seemed rather amused by the whole ordeal. He hadn’t said much, and disappeared after a couple of minutes.

 

The next visit was much the same. By the third, SHIELD had started getting tired of assembling everything and rushing over to them. By the sixth, Natasha had simply stopped notifying SHIELD.

 

What exactly _was_ Loki doing there? Natasha couldn’t answer that. Loki would chat with her about the most absurdly ordinary things, as though they were old friends. Of course, it could be an attempt at manipulation. Natasha kept herself on high alert and with senses tuned.

 

By now, Natasha had pretty much lost track how many times they met. Loki had gotten tired of appearing to her, and just teleported her to him in a grassy field atop a cliff that overlooked a raging waterfall and frothy waters.

 

 _Where am I?_ Natasha had asked once. Loki had smirked in reply. _Nowhere you would now,_ he would answer. _On a different world entirely, actually._

 

Loki, though, was _always_ an illusion. She couldn’t touch him, nor could he touch her. Natasha wasn’t terribly afraid but she wasn’t a fool either, and was on her guard.

 

Now, Natasha glanced down at the revealing clothing she was wearing. It was fine—nothing Loki hadn’t seen before. There was one time he’d teleported her while she was in the shower, and after taking one look at her Loki had instantly teleported her back.

 

She closed her eyes lightly, and when she opened them, she was up on the familiar isolation cliff, staring at Loki’s face.

 

————

 

All Loki needed to do was to get someone to kill him.

 

It shouldn’t be so hard, right? After all, dozens of people had attempted to before. Now, he just needed to _let_ them.

 

The Chitauri’s rules were unfairly specific. Loki couldn’t kill _himself_ , which would have been the preferable option. He couldn’t die of an ‘accident’, which had been Loki’s second option. No, someone else entirely had to kill him.

 

If Loki didn’t die, then the entire universe was going to wiped out.

 

Loki’s reasoning was, he was going to die either way. Why not save at least Frigga’s life in the process? If Frigga didn’t exist, then Loki would’ve carelessly let all life die with him. At least, that’s what he convinced himself.

 

The Chitauri desired his death. If they didn’t get it, they would wage war on the Nine Realms. So the fate of the universe was basically in Loki’s untrustworthy hands.

 

Loki sighed. He wasn’t allowed to explain _why_ he had to die either to anyone, and that made everything a whole lot harder. He’d planned to just tell one of the Avengers everything, and Loki was sure they’d only be too happy to oblige him.

 

The plan he had now wasn’t foolproof, but so far, it was the best he got. The Black Widow was going to kill him.

 

She wouldn’t simply do it just because, since the mortals had an annoying sense of honor. Romanoff had less honor than most, but Loki was unwilling to beg the assassin to slaughter him where he stood.

 

No, Loki was going to _trick_ her into killing him.

 

Everything was elaborately set up. The target, the knives in his hand. For once, Loki had actually appeared instead of using an illusion. But Romanoff wouldn’t know that.

 

Waving his gloved hands lightly just for show, he summoned Natasha Romanoff.

 

She appeared across from him, next to the target, swirling blue-green eyes taking in everything. She was barely clad, but the calm dread he felt at the prospect of dying kept Loki’s eyes was wandering.

 

“Practicing?” she asked nonchalantly. Loki answered with a brusque nod.

 

He flicked his wrist, and a solid knife materialized in her hand as well. “Do you want to practice?”

 

“Why not?” said Romanoff, getting the feel of her new throwing knife. “I’ll give it a whirl.”

 

Loki needed her to throw the knife at _him,_ not the target. She didn’t know that Loki was actually here in person, but by then it’ll be too late. He would have just _told_ her to throw the knife at him, but Loki wasn’t sure if sentiment would get the better of her at the last minute.

 

Subtly turning the knife in his hand into an illusion, Loki threw it at Natasha. It passed through her body harmlessly, and had the knife been real, it would’ve been a killing shot. Loki smirked, goading her on. He tipped his head, poisonous green eyes inviting a challenge, as though saying, _Can you throw better than me?_

 

Natasha met his unspoken challenge with an arch of an elegant eyebrow. Gripping the handle of the knife tightly in her hands, she took aim.

 

Loki took a deep breath.

 

The Black Widow threw the knife at Loki, the brilliant silver blade flashing in the sunlight. He closed his eyes, waiting, anticipating, dreading the killing blow.

 

It never came.

 

Loki opened his eyes in confusion, and felt the tiniest sting as the edge of the knife skimmed his ear. Other than that small cut, Loki was unharmed, and the knife flew for another few feet before landing behind him.

 

Loki turned to Natasha, unable to believe that she _missed._ At such a close proximity, he knew that there was no way for the highly skilled assassin to miss unintentionally.

 

Natasha was smiling down at her hand, and she was holding up one finger. “Genocidal,” she said, eyes still averted away from Loki. She counted another finger mockingly. “Homicidal, fratricidal, patricidal, speciocidal, regicidal.” Each finger for a crime spoken.

 

The woman finally raised her eyes to Loki. “I guess I have to add suicidal to the list now.”

 

 _Suicide._ Loki searched his own limited knowledge of the mortal word. From what he knew, it was the killing of oneself when life simply became too much. He ground his teeth. _He_ most certainly wasn’t suicidal. That was a cowardly thing, and Loki wasn’t cowardly.

 

But that time at the Bifrost…when he let go, he didn’t know he was going to survive. Loki supposed that counted as attempted suicide. Great. Now he wasn’t only a traitor, he was a _cowardly_ traitor, too.

 

Loki scowled at Natasha. “How…”

 

“The grass,” Romanoff interrupted. “When you used an illusion, you wouldn’t flatten the grass.” She pointed behind him, and sure enough, Loki could see clumps of grass, flattened where he’d stepped on it.

 

Loki let out an enraged snarl, frustration clouding his features. “The fuck does that matter!” he screamed, initial calmness fading. “Just take the damn knife and kill me!”

 

“Why?”

 

Loki crossed over to her in a couple of large strides. His long, elegant fingers roughly gripped her shoulders, giving her a harsh shake. “Because you _must_ ,” he spat, face inches away from hers. “Do it, or I swear I will kill you.”

 

The Black Widow’s gaze didn’t waver, and her eyes betrayed no fear. “Why?”

 

Loki let out a frustrated yell, pushing her backwards. The former SHIELD agent didn’t lose her footing, burning eyes never leaving his face.

 

“Fuck you,” Loki snapped, and with a flick of his fingers, Natasha Romanoff was gone.

 

Loki never sent for her again.


	2. Iron Man/Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated earlier than I said I would!!! Yes!!! *crosses #8 off bucket list*
> 
> Yes, I changed the story from 5+1 to 4+1. Bruce was going to be one chapter, but I had little to no ideas for him, so I just cut him out completely.

 

 

Pepper paused in her brisk, clicking steps, staring out the balcony window as she felt a pang deep inside her.

 

Her gaze dropped to the busy streets of New York below, teeming with people. Her fingers lightly rested on the clear glass, mended after Loki had broken it by flinging Tony through.

 

 _This_ was where Tony had almost died.

 

Her eyes flickered over to the countertop. _That_ was where Tony had audaciously offered Loki a drink, if his somewhat jumbled account was anything to go by. Loki had apparently tried to use his mind-controlling scepter on Tony, but his arc reactor had stopped it.

 

Pepper’s lips twisted. Even _she_ could appreciate the irony in that.

 

She glanced at her watch, and after judging that she had at least ten spare minutes in her busy schedule, Pepper’s attention drifted to the crazed demigod who’d attacked New York.

 

Pepper didn’t like to be single-minded. She, while a practical woman, felt it only fair to look at things from _everyone_ ’s point of view, not just her own. Even when Stane had betrayed Tony in such a cruel way, Pepper had in vain tried to justify his actions to herself. But there simply wasn’t a way to make Obadiah’s wrong a right, in her mind at least.

 

So she tried to picture things from _Loki_ ’s point of view. Loki was adopted, Tony had said. Pepper scrunched up her face. Identity issues? she guessed, but Pepper couldn’t justify Loki’s actions with that. He’d tried to kill his _sibling_ , for God’s sake.

 

If Thor had been an awful big brother, that would at least make a _little_ bit of sense. But there were numerous times the big god of thunder had crashed at Stark Tower, and Thor had been sweet to her. From running forward to open the door for her, offering to help whenever Pepper was stuck cleaning up Tony’s drunken messes, and making tea for her when Pepper complained of a headache, Thor had been an absolute darling.

 

Had he been different before? Once, when Thor was helping Pepper hang up a new painting, Loki had come up. The mention of his little brother always sent Thor into a graver mood.

 

_“What he did was wrong, very wrong, Lady Pepper,” Thor said, looking earnestly into Pepper’s eyes. “And I understand that. The things he did to Stark, they were wrong.”_

 

_Then, his large blue eyes became impossibly bluer and larger. “But I beg you to believe me when I say this, Pepper, that Loki wasn’t always like this.”_

 

 _“What_ was _he like, then?” Pepper asked somewhat curiously._

 

_Thor laughed bitterly. “You wouldn’t believe it, but Loki was extremely sensitive.” His gaze was dark with sorrow and pain. “I remember once, Loki had a small wolf cub he attempted to nurse back to health, after finding it motherless and with a broken leg. But there was no way the poor cub could make it, yet Loki wouldn’t listen to reason. It died within two days.”_

 

_Thor swallowed hard. “He cried for days, afterwards.” He paused for a moment. “Loki would always confide in me before, when we were younger. I guess I just kept teasing him so mercilessly that he just…stopped.”_

 

_When Thor averted his eyes, Pepper laid a hand on his arm. “Thor, it’s not your fault,” she said gently._

 

_He just brushed off her soothing. “Lady Pepper, you don’t understand,” he said. “If I’d been a better older brother, if I’d cared more for him and included Loki more, if I wasn’t so arrogant and blind, none of this wouldn’t have happened.” Thor stopped speaking and closed his eyes._

 

_“Maybe it is your fault,” said Pepper abruptly, and Thor’s eyes were instantly wide open, looking somewhat confused. But Pepper knew what she was doing. She’d handled Tony after every one of his nightmares about Afghanistan, and she could handle Thor._

 

_“Maybe you could have averted all this, if you’d been more considerate,” went on Pepper, brutally honest. “But you weren’t, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”_

 

 _Pepper gave Thor’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Thor, you need to stop thinking about what kind of brother you could’ve been, and start thinking about what kind of brother you_ will _be.” Pepper smiled warmly at Thor. “And I’m sure you’ll be a great one.”_

 

She dragged herself back to the present by giving herself a good, hard pinch. Pepper glanced quickly at her watch again. She probably should leave now.

 

Turning halfway to leave, Pepper gave one more quick glance at the window. And her jaw dropped.

 

Standing there, was a young man that had most _definitely_ not been there before.

 

He looked in his mid-twenties, with carefully slicked back black hair, exotic green eyes, and slightly pale features. He was dressed comfortably in strange clothing, all green and black. But strangest of all was that weird feeling Pepper got when she looked at him, as though she _remembered_ him.

 

But Pepper could’ve sworn she’d never met him. If she had, she felt sure that those handsome, striking features and odd clothing would’ve stuck with her. And someone with high enough access to get here…no, Pepper would’ve _definitely_ remembered him.

 

“May I help you?” asked Pepper smoothly, realizing she probably had stared for too long.

 

The young man smiled, displaying two rows of flawless white teeth. “Virginia Potts,” he said, voice rich and cultured with the faintest hint of a pleasant but foreign accent. “Or may I call you Pepper?”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Pepper, “but do I know you? And how did you get access to these floors?”

 

He tipped his head to one side, jaded green eyes—that suddenly struck Pepper as looking _poisonous—_ studying her. “No?” he inquired in confusion. “I could’ve sworn I met your boyfriend, Anthony Stark.”

 

“There’s a lot of things Tony doesn’t tell me,” said Pepper dryly. “Now, what was your name again?”

 

He smiled again, but it wasn’t pleasantly charming like the first smile. No, this smile was malicious and cruel, displaying dark intent. Pepper’s heart skipped a beat, that awful elastic-looking smile becoming horribly familiar. She drew a step back.

 

“You may’ve heard of me,” said Thor’s little brother, terrible smile only growing. “I’m pretty famous in these parts.”

 

Pepper sucked in her breath sharply, and all she could think of in that moment was that the person in front of her seemed awfully unlikely to cry over a dead wolf cub.

 

———

 

Loki was mentally debating how to kill Virginia Potts.

 

Should he throw a knife at her? Shoot her? Cut a vital vein and watch her slowly bleed out and die?

 

Loki discarded the last option. He, while a murderer, liked to think he could be merciful. A painless death will infuriate Stark enough to kill him, anyway. A carefully constructed plan ran through his head, one that had been carefully rehearsed many times.

 

But Loki hadn’t anticipated how damn _fast_ the Iron Man was going to appear to the scene.

 

“Oh, hey there Reindeer Games,” said a tinny voice, and a red-gold blur landed behind Loki, on one knee with a fist implanted into the ground. “Miss me?”

 

Before Loki could come up with a sarcastic answer, he was knocked backwards by a repulser blast in a most undignified way.

 

Cursing, he teleported himself behind Potts, quickly pressed a small knife to her throat. Virginia stilled, and Loki could feel her pulse hammering wildly away. Loki smiled at the Iron Man, who hesitated, faceplate flipping open.

 

New plan.

 

Using a touch of magic, Loki silenced Pepper. His plan was simple. Kill Potts, flee Stark’s wrath, and ‘accidentally’ fall to his death. He wasn’t killing himself, technically it was the Iron Man since he would be chasing him. It was a foolproof plan, and it was better than being humiliatingly killed outright by a mortal.

 

As the blade pressed closer and closer to home, blood dripped down Potts’s bare, unguarded neck and the expression of raw fear in her eyes grew.

 

Loki glanced at Stark, who curiously wasn’t yelling at him or cursing. Instead, the mortal’s eyes were on Potts, and he was gesturing to her. As though he were trying to…. _remind_ her of something.

 

_Oh shit._

 

Loki was suddenly aware of a burning, hot white pain in his abdomen, and a knee collided with his groin. He was unprepared, and stumbled back unwillingly, hands falling to his sides. Potts was free.

 

“Nice tasering, Pep!” came the Iron Man’s voice, and Loki blindly ducked and rolled on the ground as a repulser blast shot above his head, barely missing him. He gritted his teeth in fury, scrambling near the counter for cover.

 

Because his pride simply couldn’t handle being killed by _Stark_ of all people, Loki quickly pulled an illusion over himself as Pepper, and changed Virginia into himself. That would give him a moment’s respite, and he would attempt to flee Stark’s blasts. He then would ‘accidentally’ fall through the glass and die effectively.

 

As he prepared to run, he saw Stark aiming one of his toys at Potts disguised as Loki, and that was where Loki got his _next_ inspiration for grandly dying.

 

He would crash into Virginia and save her life, but the blast from Stark’s weapon would still hit Loki, killing him. Then Stark would have to live with the fact that _Loki_ died saving his girlfriend’s life, from Stark himself, of all people.

 

Before Stark fired his weapon, Loki was already moving, letting the illusions fall away as he slammed into Potts’ side. Yet the damned weapon didn’t harm him, merely singing the ends of his black hair as it landed harmlessly behind them. Damn.

 

But Loki and Potts were still rolling, a tangled mass of arms and legs. Apparently Loki had slammed into Potts _too_ hard.

 

The pair crashed into the window and it crashed, glass pieces raining down on them. And then Loki was falling, falling.

 

His plan had worked after all. Loki was going to die.

 

At least, that’s what he _thought_ , before a hand caught his, holding him up.

 

———

 

Pepper swallowed hard, muscles straining with face red as she knelt at the side of the floor. Her head swam dizzily as she gripped Loki’s pale fingers as tight as she could. Her heels had fallen off in the tussle, and she dug her feet into the ground.

 

But there was no denying it, she was slipping. Loki’s weight was bearing her down.

 

Yet why the hell was she still holding onto him? Why didn’t Pepper just let _go_ of him?

 

The simple answer: she couldn’t.

 

The fact that the man she was risking her life for was a murderer did not leave her, but so did the fact that this was _Thor’s little brother,_ a sweet little overly-sensitive boy who cried over his pets and longed for attention from his brother. And…he just _saved her life_.

 

So she held on.

 

Pepper chanced a look at Loki, and he was snarling, poisonous green eyes alight with fury. “ _Let go of me_!” he screamed at her, long legs flailing behind him. “ _You insolent, foolish mortal!_ ”

 

She ignored him, but her palms were beginning to sweat. Pepper cursed, and Loki smiled.

 

Then he let go.

 

——

 

He was doing it.

 

Finally, Loki was going to die.

 

As he rushed through the air, Loki summoned up the memories of his golden childhood, when it had been just him and Thor, with no Warriors Three and no Sif. Running through rosy flowers, clambering up hazelnut trees, sneaking into the kitchen to steal handfuls of pastries, chasing red-gold blurs….wait, _what?_

 

Loki’s hazy vision snapped back to reality as his eyes fixated on the image of the Iron Man streaking down as fast as he could go. For a moment, Loki thought Stark was trying to make sure Loki actually died.

 

Then the alarming answer settled on him—Stark was trying to _save_ him.

 

Shit, shit, shit….oh damnit, would _nobody_ just _fucking let him die_?

 

But the ground was too close, and Stark was too far away, yes, yes, Loki was going to make it. He took a deep breath, and felt a harsh slam against his body, a cold icy numbness…then silence.

 

His pulse stilled.

 

——

 

Loki had prepared to see Hela when he opened his eyes, because there was no way he was going to wake up in Valhalla. He had never actually seen Hela, face-to-face. Half of her was said to be an image of the most beautiful woman ever seen, and the other half was a repulsive, blackened creature. No definite picture, however, had been drawn up.

 

But Loki was pretty sure she didn’t look wear a neatly trimmed beard, a cocky grin, and a suit of burnished red-and-gold armor.

 

Then the panic and pain settled in. He wasn’t dead, he was _alive_.

 

Loki meant to snap something at Stark, but all that came out was a drunken mumble. “You’re not the goddess of hell,” Loki slurred.

 

Stark grinned wider. “Last time I checked, nope. Though some may beg to differ.”

 

“Why am I not dead?”

 

Dark eyebrows raised. “Why, Rudolph, surely you aren’t complaining?”

 

Loki swore. “What did you _do,_ you ignorant mortal?”

 

“Defibrillator.”

 

“What the _fuck?_ ”

 

“As the good Cap would say, language, young man,” said Stark mildly, tone amused. “I didn’t do much, just shocked you back to life after feeling no pulse.”

 

Loki swore violently in about ten different languages. He’d tried to kill himself _three times,_ and they hadn’t worked.

 

Giving Stark one last heated glare, Loki teleported himself away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length. Can you believe that Pepper's musings were only supposed to last for three paragraphs? Who exactly was I kidding?
> 
> Did anyone else find it funny that Loki just can't seem to get himself killed? I know, I'm just a terrible, twisted person with a black soul. 
> 
> Next chapter is Hawkeye, and I'm going to enjoy writing that the most :) 
> 
> Comments, kudos and whatever whatnot are much appreciated!


	3. Hawkeye/Clint Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated quickly. Again. Yay for me.

 

Loki was a fool.

 

Two different Avengers. Three different perfect chances. And yet, Loki was not dead.

 

Either Loki was a goat-brained idiot, or the Norns hated him. He decided to go with the latter, as it was less insulting to his pride.

 

Loki began to pace back and forth in the little Midgardian apartment, hands folded neatly behind his back. He’d expected more of Romanoff, and the fact that Stark had just saved his life left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

No, now he needed someone who would be _sure_ to kill him. The Captain was out of the question. Banner had been next on list, but it would be a hard and messy business to get the beast unleashed, and Loki wasn’t eager to die in pain. A quick, painless death would be preferable.

 

That’s when the answer struck him. This person had every reason to want to kill Loki and gain revenge. But just to be safe, Loki would pay a _very special_ visit to his family.

 

It was time to visit his former minion’s home.

 

——————————

 

“Clint! I thought you were coming in a few hours!”

 

Laura Barton’s delighted voice rang out as Loki, disguised as Clint Barton, stepped into the large, comfortable house. Her warm brown eyes danced with pleasure and she flung a baby-free arm around his neck.

 

“The job got finished sooner than I expected,” answered Loki, a fairly neutral reply. Laura just accepted that answer.

 

Loki’s gaze fell on the baby that was carefully balanced on her hip. _Nathaniel Pietro Barton,_ the shirt read. Ah, so Barton had a _child_.

 

“Cooper and Lila are napping,” Laura said breathlessly, and Loki amended the statement. Not a child, _children_.

 

That fool. Didn’t he know how easy it would be for Loki to just kill his wife where she stood, then hold his children hostage?

 

Laura didn’t notice anything amiss, but laid the gurgling, chubby baby on the couch. “They can be quite a handful sometimes,” she told him with a smile. “But they’re _my_ handful.”

 

Loki had planned to reveal himself by then, but then decided it would be amusing to kiss Laura first. “That’s where you’re wrong,” Loki murmured to her. “They’re _our_ handful.”

 

He kissed her and Laura kissed back with fervor, fingers knotting in his light brown hair.

 

Loki felt a smug satisfaction as he felt Laura’s lips on his, a triumphant, cruel smirk twisting Barton’s features.

 

Laura sensed the change in his demeanor and opened her honey-brown eyes, confusing shining out of them as she saw the look on his face. “Honey?” she asked hesitantly.

 

Loki stepped away from her, the disguise of Clint Barton falling away. It was hilarious, the way her emotions changed from bewilderment to alarm and finally recognition and then fear.

 

“ _Loki_?” she breathed, tone both parts repulsed and fearful. Her gaze instantly fell on her now sleeping child.

 

Now, Loki knew the sensible thing to do right now was to take the baby hostage. No harm would befall him while the child was in his possession, but Loki _wanted_ harm to befall him.

 

Instead, he merely pointed an illusion of a fake gun at the baby, and called out in Barton’s voice, “Cooper! Lila! I’m home!”

 

Laura’s lips pressed into a thin line, but there was nothing she could do. Shrieks of “Daddy!” and “Daddy’s home!” rang out, and there was the thump of children’s feet on stairs. Two children, a young boy and girl, rushed into the room, only to stop dead at the sight of Loki.

 

“Sit down, otherwise I’ll shoot your brother,” Loki said serenely in his own voice, and the wide-eyed kids, after a fearful, teary glance at their shaking mother, complied.

 

Loki pulled out the phone he had in his pocket, and dialed Barton’s number, eyes never leaving Laura’s face.

 

After a couple of rings, the archer picked up, and Loki put it on speaker. “Hello?” came the cautious question, and Loki smirked at his wife.

 

“Hello there, Barton,” he said conversationally. “Miss your old master?”

 

Barton spat. “Oh, it’s you, you motherfucking bastard,” came the hissed answer. “What the fuck do you want?”

 

“Just a quick question,” said Loki nonchalantly. “You see, I’m not wanting to stain my _own_ knives with useless mortal blood….so where do you keep _your_ butchering knives?”

 

There was a silence on the line, and then a string of fluent curses. The girl’s eyes went as wide as saucers, apparently more concerned about her father cursing than she was about being murdered.

 

“Mommy, Daddy said _lotsa_ bad words,” she whispered urgently. “Does he have to put _twenty dollars_ in the Swear Jar?”

 

Loki made no attempt to hide his dry bark of laughter, and he knew that Barton would hear Lila’s loudly whispered question.

 

“Lila? Honey, is that you?” came Clint’s fretful voice. “Just hang tight, okay? Daddy’s coming, and he’ll beat the crap out of that monster.”

 

“Daddy, that’s _another_ dollar,” Lila said in a hushed whisper, and her older brother nudged her sharply in the ribs.

 

Loki hung up.

 

————

 

Clint wasn’t terribly long in coming. A loud crash sounded upstairs, and harsh, loud, purposeful footsteps pattered down the stairs and Hawkeye burst into the room.

 

After that, things happened quickly.

 

Barton shot a volley of sharp black arrows at him in graceful, fluid motion, and it was all Loki could do to avoid them. Even so, he ended up on the ground, rolling.

 

By the time he was up on his feet, Laura had already taken her children and left. She was quick, Loki had to give her that.

 

Because Loki wasn’t willing to let himself flat out die, just like that, he put up a decent fight. Round and round they went, like a deadly dance.

 

But Loki had to give Barton the upper hand in order to die, and that’s what the god of lies did. He allowed himself to be driven backwards, until his back was pressed up tightly against the wall.

 

Even if Loki had tried, in this vulnerable position and without his magic, there was no way he could win. It wasn’t long before Barton had a knife pressed to his neck.

 

As Loki prepared for the killing blow, he mentally swore when he saw Barton’s face. He hadn’t expected _Barton_ , of all people, to be sentimental. Loki had to do something about that.

 

“Can’t kill me, Barton?” Loki sneered. “Well, I knew the whole _while_ you wouldn’t be able to do it. Because deep inside of you, there’s a part of you. A part of you that desires to be _ruled_.”

 

Loki leaned closer, lips grazing his ear. “And that part…won’t let you kill your _ruler_.”

 

Barton stilled.

 

“And when you’ve surrendered all of yourself to your master,” hissed Loki, “I’ll send you to that _bitch_ you call your wife. She’ll run thrilled to embrace you, but then she’ll see it in your eye that you are no longer hers. But it’ll be too late for her. Smiling, you’ll murder her in front of your children, her blood drenching their hair. They’ll be screaming for their _daddy_ , but you will ignore the to please your _master_.”

 

Loki didn’t have the faintest idea if what he was saying was true, but it was all he could think of for the moment. He kept rambling on, the words its intended effect, for Barton was breathing heavily, sweat forming on his brow.

 

Loki was unimpressed at Barton’s formidable facial expression, and he let it show. Inwardly, he regretted the fact that the furious mortal’s face would be the last thing he saw before he died.

 

So he summoned up all his memories of Frigga, trying to make her his last memory.

 

Loki kept on speaking, not even aware of what he himself was saying. But it must have reached some sort of limit for Barton, for with a choked cry of “Stop!” Loki felt hands around his neck, squeezing.

 

Loki gagged at the impact, but kept the grotesque smile still on his face. Yet at the same time he closed his eyes and imagined Frigga, hair falling in honey-gold ripples, eyes as blue as Thor’s, surrounded by a halo of light. A cool rustling of skirts, gentle, soothing words, a warm hand to brush away his tears.

 

That’s when Barton stopped.

 

Loki’s eyes opened, vivid green eyes sharp as he stared at Barton in slight confusion.

 

Barton was _smiling_.

 

It wasn’t a malicious smile. It wasn’t a smug smile, a resigned smile, a triumphant smile. It wasn’t even a _happy_ smile.

 

No, Barton’s smile was _amused_.

 

Somehow, that irked Loki more than anything else. He scowled darkly at Barton, who was giving Loki a knowing, almost understanding, look. Loki hated that look with ever fiber of his being.

 

“Nat was right,” he said musingly, studying Loki out of eyes that had looked better when Tesseract-blue. “You really _are_ suicidal.”

 

Horrifying reality sinking in, Loki stared stupidly at Barton. No, no, no, this _couldn’t_ be happening. First the Black Widow, then Virginia, then Stark, then _Barton_?

 

This was too much. Loki bared his teeth menacingly at Barton, but he just gave Loki another amused look. “Psychopaths generally _do_ go suicidal,” Barton commented.

 

“I’m not a psychopath,” Loki muttered out of habit, recalling a Midgardian TV show he had found somewhat interesting. “I’m a high functioning sociopath.”

 

Barton appeared absolutely _delighted_. “You watch _Sherlock_?” he asked as though that were the most hilarious thing ever. “Oh god, that is too funny. I’ve got to tell Stark.”

 

Loki swore fluently, then disappeared in a puff of smoke for drama.

 

But not before leaving a twenty dollar bill for the Swear Jar.

 

—————

 

Loki paced in his apartment again, back to where he started.

 

He simply couldn’t get himself fucking _killed_. How hard could it be, really?

 

Fine. The Norns were leaving him no choice. He’d have to go after his not-brother.

 

Thor.

 

But to get to Thor, Loki had to find Jane Foster. Kill her, maybe?

 

_No!_

 

Since when did Loki follow a pattern? To get to Stark, he targeted Potts. To get to Barton, he targeted his wife. This was starting to turn into some kind of pattern.

 

No, Loki needed to do something different, something Thor would be furious about.

 

Gritting his teeth, Loki smirked as an idea struck him. It would get Thor beautifully furious and angry, and Loki was _guaranteed_ a quick, painless death with Mjolnir.

 

Loki was going to rape Jane Foster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, how did you like that chapter? I personally enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> A lot of people portray Clint as some kind of deranged, bloodthirsty murderer who desperately wants to kill Loki. I honestly prefer this version of Clint better, because it seems more realistic and more in character. But that's just my opinion. 
> 
> You guys probably thought it would be Thor to end up killing Loki, right? It was going to be like that originally, but not anymore :) Who is it going to be, then? Well, that's my little secret ;)
> 
> ******SPOILER ALERT: READ ONLY IF YOU ARE WORRIED ABOUT THE "RAPING JANE" PART!!!!******
> 
> Now, about the 'raping Jane' thing at the end. Just to let you know, THERE WILL BE NO ACTUAL RAPE. The rating is NOT going to change to Explicit. I may change it to Mature depending on how many sexually-related statements I make, but no, Loki is not actually going to rape Jane. Sorry, everyone who wanted that :( Unless, of course, a bunch of people (or my sister) convince me otherwise. That has about a 40 percent chance of happening, but if it happens, I will be sure to change the Archive Warning thingy.

**Author's Note:**

> For Reference:
> 
> Patricide - the killing of one’s father  
> Fratricide - the killing of one’s brother  
> homicide - the killing of a person  
> genocide - the killing of a large group of people  
> speciocide - the killing of a species  
> regicide - the killing of a monarch


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